


Meraki

by angelboygabriel



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: 2.10 Naka-choko, Biting, Boundaries, Choking, Dark Will, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, I’m being serious this is fight-fucking, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Rough Sex, Symbolism, Will Knows, slightly unorthodox lube
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-23
Updated: 2018-07-23
Packaged: 2019-06-15 03:13:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,656
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15403716
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/angelboygabriel/pseuds/angelboygabriel
Summary: The word “passion” derives from the Latin word for suffering.Will Graham finds that incredibly fitting.





	Meraki

**Author's Note:**

> based off that really sexually tense dinner in 2x10 Naka-choko
> 
> Some dialogue straight from the actual script- minor adjustments made for plot’s sake.

 

Hannibal can pinpoint the exact second Will Graham loses the patience- _the humanity_ \- to continue playing the game.

 

Some microscopic part of his frigidly angry gaze fractures, like a teacup on a floor.

 

Hannibal Lecter is satisfied.

 

* * *

 

Dinner with Alana is not in the way either of them had hoped. The air is strife with thinly veiled tension and the good Miss Bloom manages to conceal her uncomfortable shifting in her chair. Despite it all, there is an inherent intimacy in the three of them sharing a meal, a thread thinly woven to connect their lives. Will thinks of scissors.

 

After dinner is served (pig, it’s delicious as always) Alana seems like she wants to test the waters and steers the conversation, quite pointedly, towards Hannibal and Will. Will doesn’t let something as telling as emotion rake his face, and merely sideglances his table mates, haughty in the face of Hannibal’s amusement.

 

“Someone with no boundaries is a psychopath.” Alana states once she finally catches Will’s eye, and he fights the urge to smile as he responds.

 

“Or a journalist.”

 

“Freddie isn't the only one without boundaries.” she replies, then as a seeming afterthought, “Your relationship doesn't seem to know many.”

 

“Patient and therapist, friend and enemy.” Will supplies easily, and that’s when he meets Hannibal’s eyes in place of Alana’s.

 

He’s always been unreadable, but without fail Will sees himself reflected back, both literally and metaphorically. It used to scare him, to look into a mirror like Hannibal Lecter, but now Will can’t help but find sick admiration in who’s staring back.

 

Will finds himself childishly comparing the silent dance they’re doing to a staring contest, and counts his victories in the minuscule movements of the other man’s eyebrows. Will can nearly smell Alana’s agitation.

 

“Crossing boundaries is different than violating them.” she says cooly, but from her body language she may as well have snapped at them.

 

“Boundaries will always be subject to negotiation.” Will says to Hannibal, yet Alana still takes that sentence and claims it for her own purposes, glancing between the men. Hannibal’s mouth pulls up into a grin that feels all too stifling to Will.

 

“It's just hard to know where you are with each other.” Alana comments with a frown.

 

“We know where we are with each other. Shouldn't that be enough?” Will asks smoothly, eyes darkening as he stares at Hannibal. Alana is clearly too polite to comment on the positively predatory way that Will drinks in the sight of Hannibal, and it’s likely for the best. Despite his best instincts, he and Hannibal’s fingers twitch in tandem towards their forks. They both turn to look at her, and to Alana’s credit she doesn’t shirk their looks. A weaker woman than she would have cracked by now.

 

“Better the devil you know.” Hannibal said lightly before gesturing grandly at the food. “Eat, please. I must insist upon dessert later as well, I’ve been told my mango-basil vacherin is to _die_ for.”

 

The table lapses into silence as they all eat: politely, civilly. Like real people do.

 

When the plates have been gratefully cleared and swept away by Hannibal, Alana levels a hard look at Will from across the top of her wine glass as she takes a delicate sip. She considers it for a moment, some artistic Chardonnay before she holds the glass to the side of her head.

 

“Do you see this, Will?” she asks, and Will narrows his eyes. “It’s a wine glass. But it only serves its purpose once someone has filled it.” she says and sets it down with a gentle clink.

 

The liquid sloshes slightly and settles. Hannibal returns with three precisely balanced plates of a sweet, fruity chilled dessert that’s set down on all their places. Juicy looking mango ice set underneath a rich, very pale green cream.

 

“Mango-basil vacherin made with fresh tropical fruit and with added milk mint meringue. I hope you find it delicious.” he says pleasantly.

 

 _When is it ever not?_ Will wants to say. The doctor was painfully meticulous with... everything.

 

Most talk seemed to have subsided for the evening, and the dessert was finished in silence. Hannibal watched Will lick a smear of basil cream off his thumb.

 

“It was fantastic as usual.” Will said politely to Hannibal, and he dipped his head in acknowledgement.

 

“Yes. Thank you very much, Dr. Lecter.” Alana chipped in. She’d unwillingly calmed herself and took control back of her curiosity, her gaze taking the veneer of professionalism.

 

“I find immense gratification in life’s simple pleasures. Food, being one of many. I choose to decorate my table with only the finest.” he said. Will looked into the depth of that statement and saw perfectly clearly he and Alana clothed in red. “Shall we show you to the door?” Hannibal questioned, and Alana nodded as she stood.

 

In the foyer, Will helped Alana with her overcoat while Hannibal opened the door. She gave Will a meaningful look. “Don’t break.” she said as she crossed the doorway, and Hannibal’s hand curved over Will’s shoulder. She kept _looking_ at him.

 

“Goodnight, Dr. Lecter. Will.” she intoned before turning and heading into the mist-drenched night.

 

If she had turned around, she might have seen the silhouettes of Will and Hannibal, dark and indecipherable against the light from the home and the thick of the air. They looked conjoined. But Alana knew better than to look over her shoulder.

 

The door clicked shut and Will wordlessly followed Hannibal back into the dining room. He leaned heavy against the stone table while Hannibal picked up all remnants of their meal and whisked it away to the kitchen.

 

“Will.” Hannibal called from behind where the profiler was bunched against the table. Will grunted and pinched the bridge of his nose.

 

_Don’t break._

 

“I believe I have an idea for something we should consider integrating into your therapy.” he said in that stupidly conversational voice of his and Will had to stifle a laugh.

 

“Our therapy.” Will huffed and raised his head to see Hannibal rounding the table to stand in front of him, statuesque and unblinking.

 

“Dr. Bloom raised some important points. It is important to know our boundaries. Would you like to set some?” he asked, and Will wanted to scream and scream No over and over. But he kept his mouth shut. Hannibal took that as invitation. “I would like you to tell me when to stop.” Hannibal said, and Will snatched his wrist as he raised it towards Will.

 

“No.” he snarled, and twisted the arm in his grip, fingernails digging in. Hannibal’s face didn’t even shift.

 

“These are _my_ boundaries, Dr. Lecter.” Will said, breathing gone rough. He knew, somehow, this was some fucked up power struggle- and he was certainly nowhere near having the upper hand. Hannibal was only tolerating this because he wanted to see what Will would do. He released the doctor’s hand and allowed Hannibal to set his hand on top of his head.

 

Will went very still as he began to slowly move his hand down, palm resting against his forehead like a benediction, still a respectful arm’s length apart.

 

The hand lowered to his nose before there were three fingertips rubbing across his lips. Will locked eyes with Hannibal and let his lips part very slightly, and then those fingers were pressing in to run across the ridges of his teeth and feel the plush of his tongue.

 

Will refused to say stop and felt a low simmer of lust start to burn in his stomach.

 

Hannibal’s eyes burned into his as he retracted his fingers and licked Will’s spit off them before placing them back onto his chin, hand trailing warm and damp now under his jaw and over his Adam’s apple, his collarbones, the buttoned seam of his shirt. The belt of his pants to the button of them, the bulge of his cock, the length of his thighs, his knee. Down the calf, to his foot.

 

Hannibal undid his shoe laces and Will did not say stop as he knelt to the ground between his legs.

 

An unreadable look passed between them as Will’s shoes were carefully placed to the side, socks now tucked in them. Will felt oddly exposed with bare feet in Hannibal Lecter’s home, like this was one of those new boundaries to violate- take something away from his image.

 

The curled flame of lust scorched higher in Will’s chest until his arms were shaking as Hannibal stood up and immediately began to undo his shirt. Clinical fingers deftly undid each button and pulled out the hem of his shirt, pushing it off his shoulders so Will was in his white undershirt, still shaking. _Always shaking._

 

Will grabbed Hannibal by the lapels of his perfectly put together three piece suit and jerked him forward so he was standing directly between Will’s legs.

 

“Stop.” he hissed so he could pull that fucking stupid handkerchief out of Hannibal’s jacket breastpocket and toss it carelessly to the floor, his jacket soon following. Will scrambled to peel Hannibal’s vest and button down off him as well, and licked his lips when his chest was finally exposed to him.

 

Hannibal gave Will a bemused smile as Will licked his lips and ran his hands across all the new skin revealed to him. He’s never seen Hannibal so _bare_ before.

 

Will curved a hand behind Hannibal’s head and pulled him down as he leaned back so he was fully sitting on the table. Their first kiss was a terribly messy, brutal thing that had had Will wrapping arms, legs, and mouth around Hannibal as he groaned and tried his damnedest to force them into melding into one being.

 

Hannibal forced him backwards into his elbows, and cradled the back of Will’s head, pinching the back of Will’s neck just so that Will’s mouth fell open and he could greedily lick his way instead. It stung numbly where Hannibal’s fingers dug in, and he fell fully backwards into the table, panting dazedly up at Hannibal.

 

“Fuck you.” Will breathed, and Hannibal descended upon him again. Will’s hands clutched at his shoulders and he cried out as Hannibal very much _bit_ his shoulder.

 

Pain radiated out from where Hannibal was giving him the world’s bloodiest hickey, and Will could feel his own blood mixed with saliva wetting his skin.

 

Will did not say stop.

 

He grabbed at Hannibal’s neck and started choking him the best could until Hannibal finally reared back, _il monstro._ Will shoved him back and stood up, taking in the livid scarlet _Will_ of Hannibal’s mouth before he stood up and decked Hannibal in the face. The other man stepped politely back and Will felt the tears start to fall.

 

“ _Look at what you made me!_ ” Will demanded, shaking as Hannibal’s eyes raked over him before he spat out a mouthful of mixed blood. Will gave a furtive wipe at his own messy shoulder.

 

He blinked and they were on the floor, Hannibal on his back while Will straddled him, painfully hard and white hot with emotion.

 

They laced hands.

 

“This is my design.” Hannibal said reverently and Will needed to kiss him again.

 

“I hate you so much.” Will sobbed against his lips, and Hannibal soothed a hand across his cheek.

 

“I know, my dear Will.” he said his hands slid down to undo Will’s belt. “I love you too.”

 

Hannibal looked up at this beautiful creature on top of him, blood smeared across his left shoulder, mouth, chin, and cheek. Will’s pupils dilated and his chest heaved as he got off Hannibal to take off his pants and boxers, Hannibal mirroring his actions. Will draped himself over Hannibal when he was done.

 

Hannibal opened the floor cabinet next to his head and got out a bottle of olive oil. He thought it perfectly fitting to have their first time hail back to the ways of the ancient Greeks.

 

Will groaned and ground his hips against Hannibal’s thigh as he started to finger him. Hannibal took his time disassembling Will: it would be dreadful if he accidentally broke this man he so carefully crafted. Three fingers had the both of them damp with sweat and precome on their stomachs, and Will angrily swatting at Hannibal’s wrist so he could sit up. He grabbed the bottle of olive oil and poured a generous amount onto his hand before stroking Hannibal a few times to slick him up. Will took immense gratification at the pleasured expression on his face

 

“This is my becoming.” Will whispered as he braced his messy hands on Hannibal’s chest and lowered himself down onto his cock. Their expressions took on mirror looks, and Hannibal’s hands dug hungrily into Will’s waist.

 

In the blue-white light of the kitchen in the deep, deep twilight, Will’s body was thrown into sharply pale contrast amongst all the dark fixtures. Thighs spread around Hannibal, for Hannibal, _and Hannibal only,_ muscles flexing as he carefully rolled his hips, he looked something like an epiphany.

 

Will’s head tilted back and his spine arched, face painted in pleasure so intense it was like pain. Hannibal felt a groan fall from his lips as they fucked each other.

 

He turned his gaze back down to Hannibal, something infinitely dark within.

 

Will closed his eyes and swallowed around the raven’s feathers he was afraid were about to start spilling from his mouth, moving his body in the same way that Hannibal was. His stomach was tight and hot with lust, and his face screwed up as he raised and lowered himself more fully. He felt self disgust bleed out from him in an angry way that had his fingernails curling cruelly into the flesh of the man below him.

 

Will’s eyes snapped open. The black form of a wendigo gazed back and Will moaned shamelessly as he realized his arms were the same shade of pitch.

 

 _You’re mine now, Will._ the wendigo seemed to say.

 

 _But you’re mine too_ , Will snarled back, just a fierce. He blinked again and Hannibal was there, looking slack-jawed up at him.

 

“You’re magnificent.” Hannibal said to him as he licked his lips, and Will nodded, rocking his hips back and forth as he panted heavily.

 

“I should kill you.” Will said, voice twisting up into a whine.

 

Hannibal’s laugh was foreign as he replied. “But you won’t.” he said assuredly and ran his hands up and down Will’s thighs as Will rode him.

 

“I’ll kill _for_ you.” Will exhaled, biting his lip as he sped up his pace. The thought of killing for Hannibal- or better yet, with- overwhelmed him. Hannibal wrapped a sure hand around his cock and he was coming, so hard he blacked out into a red haze.

 

The river in his mind ran ruby with blood, and Will gasped as he fell under and the liquid swirled around him.

 

By the time Will came back to himself, Hannibal had added to the mess of his chest and Will was trying to catch his breath on a long couch. Hannibal was sitting in an accompanying chair, still naked, slightly bloody and mussed up as he watched Will.

 

“Was that to your satisfaction?” he asked, and Will’s eyebrows shot up. He rasped out a laugh and blinked hard.

 

“Did you just ask me... if the sex was good?” Will questioned, and let his eyes rake over Hannibal’s form appreciatively. Hannibal refused appear admonished and shrugged. Willstood up and came over to where Hannibal was sitting. He looked up at Will and Will straddled his lap, leaning into his ear.

 

“I’m up for more, if that’s what you’re asking.” he whispered, and Hannibal ran a hand through Will’s curls.

 

“Would you leave me?” Hannibal asked, and Will laughed a little desperately and let his head rest against Hannibal’s shoulder.

 

“Where would I go?” he replied.


End file.
